It really doesn't always have to be about politics

May 4, 2014
|

by Jayne O'Donnell, USA TODAY

by Jayne O'Donnell, USA TODAY

I sat teary-eyed as eastern Kentucky native Marie Robinson told me through her tears about losing her three children, who were taken away because of her drug abuse at the time.

Robinson's account was one of many sad stories I heard recently while reporting on the Affordable Care Act's roll-out in beautiful but unhealthy and impoverished Floyd County, Ky. I felt sad this spring day, not because I thought Robinson should have had custody of her kids while abusing pain and anxiety pills by the handful. It was because of the heartbreaking thought of screwing up so much that you'd lose the right to even contact your kids.

It was also because I couldn't help thinking, "There but for the grace of God"...or education, geography or other demographic identifier, it could be any of us in her place - certainly, any of us who started life with five siblings and two alcoholic parents in her hollow.

And I worried that such a possibility might never occur to some of those who would comment about the story when it was published online. Based on past experience, I feared they would trash Robinson to make a larger political point - just as they've lashed out at others who I've persuaded in the past to tell their stories to a national audience. These include the single working mom with five kids they called a federal freeloader, and the parents of child victims they called stupid for not preventing the deaths.

Journalists use such "real people" in stories to illustrate key points. We distinguish them from professional experts, who are more accustomed to being pummeled in the media.

Robinson's story neither supports nor undercuts the view that President Obama's health care efforts are wise or working because her story, like most everyone's, is complicated.

So are the politics out there. They don't view everything through the prism of partisanship like they do around Washington, D.C., where I've spent my career covering federal agencies and Congress.

Back there, Julie Paxton walks around the Mountain Comprehensive Care health clinic, where she is in-house counsel, with her Obama coffee cup and works for CEO Promod Bishnoi, a staunch Republican. Both put aside their political differences to focus on helping the poor get sober, healthy and treated for mental illness.

Any of us could have ended up where Robinson almost did if we started life in her trailer home. I say "almost" because Robinson, like many of those in Floyd County's drug court, is turning her life around. This month, she completes the requirements of drug court, which includes, most importantly, staying sober. "It's the first thing I've ever graduated from," the ninth-grade dropout says with a big smile.

She's also getting her GED, looking for a job and hoping to go to college to become an addiction counselor. She's changed her diet and doing her part to stay healthy and out of the hospital.

As it turned out, the online comments were unusually kind this time when the story, "Health Care's Appalachian Spring," was published last week. Maybe our new format threw them off and they didn't know where to comment. Or, I'd like to think, they thought twice about lashing out at some of the unfortunate people when they are already down.

After all, some of those "real people" might have real trouble understanding how anyone could think they deserved to be poor, hungry or childless. Especially those real people who don't see the world in terms of which party is to blame and would be the first to admit they share some of that blame.